


Humility and Hubris...why hello!

by themthere_taterthings



Series: Hellooo Nurse! Verse [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Darcy Lewis, BAMF Tony Stark, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Karaoke, M/M, Polyamory Negotiations, Sex Talk, Tony Freaks Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 14:36:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14813250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themthere_taterthings/pseuds/themthere_taterthings
Summary: Tony brings Bucky to karaoke night with his work friends and Darcy mentions some things that Tony isn't ready to talk about... namely, the sex.





	Humility and Hubris...why hello!

**Author's Note:**

> I've been tweaking on this installment forever! Hope you all enjoy! A little bit of plot coming soon :)  
> This has a few references to Tony's crap childhood, FYI. And it takes off right on the heels of part 4, so maybe go back and read the last couple paragraphs of that one?

Natasha’s revenge is swift and brutal.

Tony washed the hoody and is returning it to the locker as soon as humanly possible but he should know better than to think that would be the end of it.

He arrives in the locker room a bit before two on a Tuesday afternoon, a couple weeks after the hoody’s return, to find Natasha leaning casually against their shared locker, arms crossed in front of her chest and her evil smile out in full force. It takes an incredible application of will to not turn around and make a run for it.

How much does he really need his job?

“Hey Nat,” he says, trying for nonchalant and casual but probably falling far short. As close as they are, she’s still a terrifying woman he doesn’t want to cross. She’s also extremely possessive of her things. It’s not fair that she can swipe anything and everything from the locker but if he so much as touches her stuff, she turns into a crazed Russian assassin.

Yeah, he knows this from experience but he somehow always fails to remember until it’s too late...

“Tony.” Oh yes, he’s definitely in for it.

“I’m sorry,” he tries before she can continue, just in case he can change her mind about what she has planned.

Her eyes narrow. To the untrained eye it’s full of vitriol and anger but he can see that she’s very much enjoying this opportunity to prank him and mock him for the next month or so. It works because he knows the game and since he loves her, he’s willing to play along.

“Not yet you aren’t.” Her smile switches to something too sickly sweet to be genuine and his heart quails just a bit. “Have a nice day, Tony.” She slinks away quietly and, Tony thinks, a little smugly, if that’s possible.

Grimacing, he opens the side of the locker where his work clothes…should be. The place where his clean scrubs usually sit in a neatly folded stack to be refreshed weekly, is empty except for a single set of bubblegum pink scrubs. With…yeah…the Hello Kitty stupid smug cat face all over them.

_Ick…_

Glancing at the emergency scrub shelf and finding it empty, he grabs the horrendous pink scrubs and slams the locker with a loud, “Dammit Nat!”

He can hear her gleeful cackling from the other side of the locker room door. Today is going to be an exercise in humility…or humiliation.

***

Tony knocks briefly on the door of Room 3 before breezing in, throwing out his usual greeting. “Hello… Caleb? I’m Tony and I’ll be your nurse today.” There’s a skinny boy, maybe 12 years old, perched on the edge of the examination bed, his dark mop of hair standing out starkly against his pale face. Tony hopes the pale is natural and not a sign he’s about to vomit or something.

Although…. A little vomit on this particular set of scrubs might be a blessing in disguise. It certainly couldn’t hurt.

The kid’s hunched protectively over his arm, practically ignoring the rather timid looking woman hovering near his shoulder and whispering in his ear. He nods at Tony, offering a small, rather sickly smile that’s mirrored by the woman.

“’Lo,” he mumbles, gaze migrating back to his arm. Tony resists the urge to sigh; teenagers are just getting younger and younger. He rues the day that he’ll have to treat moody, ‘I know everything’ five year olds that can’t be bribed with candy.

Letting it go, Tony turns his attention to the woman. “Mrs. Wagner, I presume?”

“Yes, I’m Caleb’s mom,” she nods in affirmation, but doesn’t offer a handshake or any other information. Quiet bunch. He can work with that.

“Perfect, if you could just have a seat over there,” Tony gestures at the two visitor chairs in the room, “I’ll take a look at this arm. So, do we think it might be a break?” He sits on the rolling stool and adjusts it higher, scooting closer to the exam bed.

“Yeah, I-I think so,” Caleb replies, glancing up at his mother.

Tony gently takes ahold of the arm in question, palpating from wrist to elbow, making mental note of when his patient winces in pain. There’s already significant bruising and swelling near the elbow, so perhaps a dislocation as well?

“How’d this happen?”

There’s a pause, long enough for Tony to flick his eyes up at the kid, who seems to wilt further with his scrutiny. “I-I fell. Down. I fell down. Yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Tony turns to Mrs. Wagner. “Why didn’t you bring him right away? This might be as serious as an elbow fracture.” He keeps his tone neutral – berating patients and their families is never the appropriate course however desired it may be…

“He didn’t seem to be in very much pain. We didn’t think it was that serious.” She doesn’t meet his gaze and it’s almost as if he _had_ berated her.

“Right. Ok, Caleb, what’s your pain level now?” He directs his attention back to his patient and points at a helpful pain numbering chart on the wall using stupidly animated emoji faces.  

Caleb looks at it for all of two seconds before staring at the floor, answering reluctantly, “Eight.”

“Eight.” Tony can’t help but repeat, but he manages to avoid glaring at Mrs. Wagner. In his personal and professional opinion, children in _any amount_ of pain is worth whatever inconvenience a trip to the doctor may cause. “Well, I’m going to grab the portable x-ray and we’ll see what’s really going on here. I’ll be right back.”

Stopping in the supply room, Tony leans on the door to think. There’s something _off_ about this whole situation, a familiar niggling nausea worrying at his stomach, but he pushes it down. Away. His personal history shouldn’t be interfering with a diagnosis. The x-ray will speak for itself and he’ll see if the PA notices anything weird.

He sets up the portable x-ray machine, prattling on about what he’s doing and anything else he can think of because the silence in the room is stifling. Caleb is laser focused on a spot on the wall and, simultaneously, nothing at all while Mrs. Wagner puts forth the minimum effort to making appropriate polite noises of interest at the nonsense Tony’s spouting. It may be the quickest x-ray he’s ever taken and they really don’t take very long to begin with…

In the hallway he examines the plastic print outs glowing in the light of the viewing port, and feels every bit of aggravation melt into a heavy sense of dread that makes his heart sink and shoulders sag, his stomach tighten with long-forgotten anxiety.

It’s a spiral fracture of the radius, fairly close to the juncture of the elbow. It can be quite a serious injury, particularly if left untreated. Lots of room for complications. They’re the type of fracture Tony hates the most.

Tony stares at the picture, unconsciously rubbing at the same spot on his right arm although his break had healed years and years ago. There’s still a bump there, though, if you know what to look for; an awkward ridge from malunion during recovery, along with a faint surgical scar.

He can’t remember now what he’d done to set off his father, if anything. What he does recall, in perfect horrifying detail, is the paralyzing fear that had held him in place while his father stalked toward him, the cold shock of pain, the blank emotionless gaze of his mother as she watched it happen.

As she _let_ it happen.

Maybe this isn’t like that.

But his arm throbs with phantom pain; sympathetic.

The PA on duty isn’t one that Tony’s super familiar with but he doesn’t have much of a choice when the guy stalks up to him by the viewing port, startling him with an abrupt, “What have you got, Tony?”

It takes longer than he’s comfortable with to shake off the dark cloud of his memories. “Umm…spiral fracture of the left arm and I think we should file a suspected domestic abuse report.”

The PA, whose name Tony doesn’t actually know, just ‘hmms’ to himself and peers at the film, using his height to crowd Tony out of the way. _Passive aggressive much, jerk?_

“Did you ask how it happened?”

“Yes, and they said it was a fall,” Tony starts and the PA interrupts before he can say how suspicious the whole thing is.

“Well then that’s that, Tony. These kind of fractures can occur from a fall, and if that’s what they said happened we can’t push it. Not everything needs this level of dramatics.”

“I’m not being dramatic,” he tries to reign in the rising heat of anger in his chest and coloring his cheeks. “I think there’s potential domestic abuse going on that needs to be reported before it escalates.”

“Well, I’ve seen the x-rays and I disagree. There’s no reason to jump to the wildest conclusion.” The PA makes to walk away but turns as if anticipating the argument on the tip of Tony’s tongue. “We’re short two ER nurses today, Tony, so we really need to see some patient turnaround.”

The implied ‘ _hurry up and discharge your patient’_ hangs heavy in the air even when Tony’s alone in the hallway. He’s never felt more disappointed in his profession to know that the Hippocratic Oath can be so easily betrayed by mere metrics.

***

The encounter lingers in his head for the rest of the day, only dissipating when he’s seated at the absurdly shiny tables of the oncology wing coffee cart, inhaling deeply the scent of a strong black brew. Jan and Nat chatter around him, having enough news to share that his unusual reserve goes unnoticed.

Actually, he’s sure Nat has noticed but is waiting for a better moment to strike and extract every last detail from him. It’s surprisingly considerate of her, so he tries to muster the appropriate level of enthusiasm for their conversation and allow the smell and taste of blessed caffeine to get his mind back on track.

It’s as easily said as done as he realizes that they’re discussing Nat’s latest date with Clint on Friday. She’s smiling like the cat who caught the canary or the cream or whatever smug, evil cats are catching these days.

“He was a complete gentleman. I, on the other hand, was not.”

Tony’s jaw drops and Nat’s smirk widens to the point where she can’t even hide it behind her mug. Evil, evil woman! “You didn’t?!” He exclaims. He’s no prude, but he expected Clint to hold out considering the ages it took him even ask for a date.

Jan whoops in delight and reaches out for a high five that is enthusiastically returned, the slap echoing in the empty atrium. The pimpled teenager manning the coffee cart is more than used to their antics by now and doesn’t even look over. “You go girl!”

Nat shrugs one shoulder in Tony’s direction. “What can I say? Waiting for Clint to make the first move was the longest dry spell I’ve had in years. I think I deserved it.” She sighs happily and slumps back in her chair. “But it was well worth the wait.”

Every word is practically dripping with satisfaction and Tony groans in disgust, dropping his fist to the tabletop. “Oh come on, I don’t need that imagery in my head!”

Jan laughs brightly, “I certainly do! Are you saying you haven’t thought about Clint naked? You can just tell he’s built. Those biceps…mmmm.”

Natasha hums in agreement while Tony punches Jan in the thigh, making her squeal and jump. “Clint?! No! He’s definitely not my type.” In the privacy of his own mind he’ll admit that Clint is fairly attractive, but there’s just so much _Clint-ness_ about him that pondering on it for very long gives him the heebie-jeebies.

“How about Loki, then?” Jan’s eyes are wide and innocent but he can see right through that façade. “Any fantasies involving someone tall, pale, and brooding that you’d like to share?”

“You’re horrible, you know that? Both of you!” He sends a glare around the table and pouts into his cup. “We are not talking about me today, not at all. Can we get back to the important stuff?” Nat opens her mouth and he interrupts quickly, “And keep it PG, please and thank you! I’ll need booze for the other version of that conversation.”

“Speaking of booze,” Natasha says, straightening up in excitement (and Tony has never been more eager to jump on a subject change). “We need to plan a karaoke night at that margarita place. I mentioned it to Clint and he said he was down.”

“You know it’s actually a restaurant, right? They serve more than tequila there,” he joked, knowing full well it was a very authentic Mexican restaurant and anything made with lard would never make its way to Natasha’s plate.

“The tequila’s the best part and you know it, Tony. So, next Saturday?”

“Definitely!” Jan is all but bouncing in her seat. “Ooh, I want to invite Thor for sure, but what about Loki?”

Tony grimaces. He’s pretty sure he has a date night scheduled for that Saturday and is going to try to convince either Steve or Bucky to come to karaoke with him, but he’s beginning to feel some extra tension whenever he brings up Loki to either of them. It’s not like the three of them are anything other than borderline hostile to each other anyway…

On the other hand, Loki is his friend, albeit very newly, and he’s not ready to throw it away for what has so far been a very tenuous _boyfriend_ relationship.

He shrugs, unable to justify isolating Loki for something as silly as karaoke. “Invite him, he might have plans already and I’m probably bringing a date so it’s really a moot point. But we definitely need to invite Darcy!”

From there, the conversation focuses on the outing, with Jan taking the lead. Tony finds that he’s looking forward to the evening – _a lot_ ; which isn’t all that surprising, since his usual nights out consist of just him and Nat.

It doesn’t even occur to him to think about the Wagner boy and his suspicious broken arm again.

***

Tony pulls up the calendar app on his phone, sprawled across his couch after his shift. He’s 90% sure he has a date scheduled for that Saturday but karaoke is simply Not A Thing that can be ignored. Absolutely not. Steve can probably easily be convinced to do something so frivolous. Bucky, on the other hand, he has no idea. Bucky had been better lately on their one-on-one dates; absolutely charming, if Tony had to describe it. Not to mention attentive, but karaoke was a silly thing to most people. Or something dreaded to be avoided at all costs.

He nearly groans aloud when he sees that Bucky is indeed his date for Saturday. Oh well, it doesn’t hurt to ask and Bucky’s blunt to the point of rudeness so he’ll have a quick answer. Who knows, Bucky may surprise him and be totally into it. A man can dream… He dials Bucky’s number with considerably less hesitation than on previous occasions. He’s not even drinking!

“Hey Tony, what’s up?” Bucky answers after only a couple rings.

“How do you feel about karaoke?” He asks without preamble. So he’s a bit too worked up for niceties…

“Uhhh.. impartial?” Bucky is obviously thrown by both the impromptu phone call and the conversation topic.

“Ok, I can work with impartial. Could I sway you toward ‘all for it’ with the offer of dinner and strong margaritas? Like I think they have a limit kind of strong.”

There’s a pause as Bucky processes the situation. “So, you want to do dinner at a karaoke bar on Saturday night?”

“Yeah, and a bunch of people from work will be there too.”

“Will that EMT guy be there?”

And this is the kind of passive aggressive crap he expected from Bucky. Well, two can play that game. “Clint? Yeah, I think so. He and Natasha are an item now.”

Now Bucky can either admit he knows what Loki’s name is and ask again or continue the standoff at the expense of his curiosity.

Bucky sighs, and the hint of regret it contains definitely doesn’t have Tony grinning in victory. “Alright, just don’t expect me to sing. That’s way more Steve’s thing than mine and it is always fun to see how much he blushes.”

“Ha! Well, I haven’t done karaoke at this particular place but if it’s good, we can always bring him back with us,” Tony jokes, but freezes as he realizes that he’s just mentioned the currently off-limits three way date.

Bucky either doesn’t mind or doesn’t notice his faux-pas. “Sounds like a plan to me. I’m always needing more blackmail material on Stevie.”

Maybe things are moving along better than he thought. Tony wouldn’t mind seeing both Steve and Bucky again, to see how it goes (it can’t go any worse than their first date, right?). On the other hand, he’s more emotionally invested now and if it went poorly he would be devastated.

He doesn’t have the vacation days required to get his head on straight if it came to that.

“Tony? You still there?” Bucky asks, drawing Tony back to their conversation.

“Right, yep. I’m here. I’m probably gonna take the subway from here, I’ll text you the address of the place, if that works?”

“Sounds perfect, doll. I’m looking forward to it.”

***

Tony makes sure to drink plenty of water at dinner because it’s the first (of, hopefully, many) karaoke nights with his rowdy bunch of coworkers and friends and he knows better than to pre-game that. He does let Bucky buy him one margarita, but he makes it last. It’s a good thing, too because as soon as the rest of the crew arrive Jan orders a round of shots, and then Clint orders another before hauling Nat up piggyback style and stampeding down the stairs to the karaoke area.

Tony just shakes his head and toasts to Bucky, “To crazy friends.”

“To new friends,” Bucky replies, and Tony’s knees weaken at his genuine smile and the thought that Bucky likes his friends enough to call them his as well.

_Jesus, he’s in deep already._

He downs his shot and thinks that one more wouldn’t be remiss.

***

Darcy plonks herself down next to him, her margarita nearly spilling onto his chest as she leans in, tossing a leg across his lap. Without thinking, he puts a hand on her knee to stabilize her. “Darcy! Watch the drink! I’m on a date, here!”

“Ooh! Who with? Point him out!” Her head is already craning around to see who he could possibly have come with.

Tony spots Bucky standing by the bar with a beer in his hand, looking somewhat confused and overwhelmed as he leans down to hear whatever story Jan is telling. Jan, of course, is practically vibrating in her high heels, arms as expressive as her face. It’s a little hilarious the obvious juxtaposition of his overly-excitable friend and ever-stoic boyfriend.

“He’s at the bar, with Jan.”

“No freaking way!” Darcy punches him in the shoulder with her free hand. “That’s the hot discharge you stole from me! You dirty skank!” Her smile is wide despite how rude her words are and he can’t help but waggle his eyebrows in response.

“You snooze you lose, Darce.” Smug is probably a good look on him.

She rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. “So, deets! You tap that? I bet he’s fantastic in bed.”

Tony sighs, shaking his head. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“Why? I thought you would be aware of the mechanics of gay sex by now.”

As much as he doesn’t want his personal business flaunted about the hospital, Darcy is a friend and probably one of the more open-minded and sexually liberated ones, at that. “He’s seeing someone else.”

Darcy’s eyes widen in righteous indignation but he slaps a hand over her mouth before she starts ranting.  “Nope! No commentary! I’m seeing the same someone else, so yeah, it’s complicated.”

When she licks his palm, he removes his hand and wipes it on her sleeve with a look of disgust. “Right. Ok. So you like them both, obviously?” He nods quickly.

“But you haven’t had sex with either of them? Let alone both of them at the same time?” One eyebrow arcs questioningly above the thick frame of her glasses.

His cheeks flush with the implications of that particular scene, imagining how enjoyable that kind of situation could be, but shakes his head no. He can’t quite fathom how he’s having this discussion with Darcy of all people, but he hasn’t really thought about the sex thing yet.

They’ve barely covered the dating thing. This could be another Thing.

“Well you should get on that, and sooner rather than later. Sexual compatibility is important, Tony.” Her index finger bounces to exaggerate her every word. “And with multiple partners it’s guaranteed to be more so.”

He can only gape in disbelief. “How old are you again?”

It’s a surprisingly astute and mature assessment; one he definitely agrees with. If they’re already complicated, what would sex do to their relationship? And, for as much bravado as he puts on, Tony’s never even participated in a threesome before. Keeping up with and satisfying two people in bed who, _oh god_ , look like that, probably with stamina to match…

He’s suddenly overwhelmed and a little terrified. No, now there’s definitely never going to be any sex. Ever. Nope. Not happening. He’d be such a disappointment.

Another solid punch to the arm brings him back to the bar. “Here, pound my drink and let’s go sing. Stop freaking out. It was just something to think about. Maybe start slow, ok? One at a time or something, but don’t wait until you’re too invested. Trust me, once you’ve met the parents it’s tough to break up cuz the guy’s terrible in the sack.”

It’s such a _Darcy_ thing to say that he snorts a laugh, perhaps more subdued than the usual, and chugs the majority of her margarita. It’s delicious and strong. They’ll need another round for sure!

“Alright, alright! Dropping it! What are we singing tonight, Darce?”

She leans over and grabs the songbook from a nearby table, flipping it open to a random page and they both start perusing the selection. It doesn’t take long for Tony to spot the perfect song and he points it out with a triumphant finger.

“No shit?! They have this song? Yes, definitely, let’s do it!” Tony is super excited. Not many people know this about him, but he is a karaoke champion. He loves it and he’s actually really talented. In a giant cosmic fluke of bizarre luck, Darcy is also amazing at it. One of these days they’ll have to do a competition or something to see if they could win a couple bucks.

“Tony. Who’s your friend?” Bucky’s deep timbre interrupting Darcy’s excited squeal as she sees the duet he’s found. Tony looks up to see Bucky looming over them, a margarita in his hand and a beer secured against his side with an elbow.

He’s also sporting his possessive grumpy face, one Tony’s become extremely familiar with. He’s not a fan of that expression, but for once it’s directed at someone other than him. The scowl is currently aimed at Darcy, with particular attention on the arm around Tony’s neck and leg swung across his lap.

“Oh! Bucky this is Darcy, she’s one of the baby nurses. Not baby as in peds of course, but a newbie. She’ll be in the ER with the big kids in about a month,” he introduces with a proud grin. Darcy may seem like a flirty slacker but she’s a great nurse and level-headed in a pinch and he honestly can’t wait to have her in their department.

Darcy nods and waves at Bucky without disentangling from Tony in the slightest. It’s almost as if she’s trying to get under Bucky’s skin because she proceeds to put her mouth unnecessarily close to his ear to whisper, “I’m gonna put us in the queue before the wait’s too long.”

The trick to singing karaoke was to walk that fine line between buzzed enough to be brave but sober enough to read the lyrics on the screen. He tells Bucky as much as he settles on the vinyl sofa passing Tony the margarita. It does the trick, getting Bucky to smile enough to look like he’s enjoying himself.

He loves the way Bucky smiles, possibly because they aren’t all that frequent. They light up his face, though, going from intimidatingly broody and handsome to charming and winsome. It’s perfect…and maybe it’s a little bit the margaritas talking. They’re quite good and, as he and Nat previously discovered, quite strong. Still, he’s surprised when the one in his hand is suddenly empty and Bucky is smirking at him, looking far too amused.

He can’t be that drunk yet, right? He’s about to defend himself when he hears his and Darcy’s names called for the next song.

“That’s us!” He cries, jumping up and dashing for the stage without another thought. He and Darcy each grab a microphone and wait through the very 60’s pop intro for Tony’s cue.

“Don’t go breakin’ my heart,” he starts, channeling Elton John to the best of his abilities.

“I couldn’t if I tried,” Darcy croons in reply and they’re off, dancing around each other and trying to upstand one another with cheesy, over the top, faux-romantic, body language. As soon as the song ends, they erupt into laughter, clinging together to stay upright as they wobble off the stage. Most of the patrons weren’t actually paying attention to their song, but their knot of friends is cheering and whooping loudly by the bar as they make their way over.

Tony presses a quick kiss to Darcy’s slightly sweaty cheek and flags down the bartender for another round of drinks while being slapped on the back by Clint, who is apparently a very friendly drunk. Nat, sometimes a friendly drunk, says something in Russian that sounds endearing, but as often as they’ve gotten smashed together he understands not a word of her rambling.

Finally, he gets a margarita and a beer for Bucky, something dark that Tony would probably enjoy if they weren’t in a too colorful, cantina-style karaoke bar and restaurant. Something about the triteness just screams _da-da-da-da-da-da-duh-tequilaaaa!_

But when he goes looking for his -probably safe to call him a boyfriend by now- he sees that Darcy is way up in Bucky’s personal space, looking like she could spit fire at any moment, so he stops just far enough away to hear the conversation.

“Look dude, I can see that you have a possessive bitchy streak a mile and a half long, but you need to chill the fuck out.” The shocked look on Bucky’s face is really something that will stick with Tony forever, possibly as blackmail material. He opens his mouth to reply or maybe to defend himself but Darcy steamrolls over him.

“Whatever you may think, I am not a threat to your relationship with Tony. Yeah, I would date Tony in a heartbeat; he’s smart, funny, and has an ass that just won’t quit. But we won’t ever date for two reasons.” Darcy holds up two fingers and jabs them into Bucky’s chest a few times.

“One, Tony’s an amazing nurse. No, he’s fucking brilliant. He knows everything, doesn’t take shit from the doctors, and is great with patients. I’m pretty new to the hospital and Tony’s the best role model there. And two, I’m ninety percent sure that Tony sees me as his kid sister.” She waves her hand a little drunkenly too close to Bucky’s face. “Whatevs. You need to keep in mind that there are different kinds of love out there. Kay, dark and broody?”

Bucky has a scowl on his face but it’s not an angry one, more pensive and thoughtful than anything. He nods slowly and Darcy spins on her heel and stalks towards where Tony’s standing.

“Good lord, I need a drink,” she says, grabbing the shot that’s meant to float on top of Tony’s margarita from his hand and downs it, smacking her lips in satisfaction afterwards. He lets her take it, mainly because he’s too busy reeling from everything she’s just said.

Drunk Darcy definitely has the mouth of a seasoned sailor but it was still one of the nicest things anyone’s said about him. He’s used to people thinking he’s attractive, but that he’s a good role model? That’s a first and it makes his heart stutter in his chest.

That’s what Jarvis was to him…

As if sensing he’s having an emotional moment, she kisses him on the cheek quickly and pulls him in for a hug. “You’re welcome,” she half-whispers into his ear, probably too many drinks in to actually manage a full whispers. “Now go ride that dick into the sunset.”

Tony can only splutter in shock and amusement as she cackles and releases him, tottering away. Moment definitely ruined.

***

The world makes absolutely no sense when Tony tears his eyes open around the gunk that’s encrusted around the edges of his lids. The things on his nightstand are in a much more organized fashion than he’s used to, which makes him suspicious that he didn’t make it back to his apartment on his own steam. His phone is conveniently plugged into its charger, his glasses are folded and sitting upright, and there’s a large glass of water and a bottle of pain relievers next to them.

He sits up, surprised that he’s not more nauseous as he pours out two aspirin and chugs the entire glass of water, but judging by the pressure on his bladder his escort home must have gotten him to drink a few glasses before he passed out. Who had even been sober enough to do that?

After relieving himself and a thorough teeth-brushing, he finally grabs his glasses and notices a sheet of paper from the magnetic pad on his fridge sitting underneath. Now he can find out who he owes a thank you breakfast to!

_Tony,_

_That last margarita (or 3, I don’t think that Darcy gal’s a good influence on you…) hit you rather hard so I took you home. I had a good time last night, but you were rambling about some stuff that maybe we should talk about? Like the three of us. Call when you’re up and we’ll do lunch._

_\- Bucky_

_Oh shit_ , is Tony’s first thought. Then his second. And third. Really, it’s just on repeat in his head, a constant stream of ‘ohshitohshitohshitohshit…’ What the hell did he say? Drunk Tony is such a moron!

He’s suddenly extremely nauseous and his head is spinning. As much as he wracks his brain he has no real recollection of Bucky escorting him home. Hell, he doesn’t recall leaving the restaurant. He hopes he didn’t bring up any of the many insecurities he has about this relationship the three of them are in. That could have been like an hour of drunken Tony rambling.

The urge to dive back into his bed and hide under the covers and pretend that the day hasn’t started is almost overpowering. He could say that he missed the note? It fluttered away to live happily ever after under his bed with all the dust bunnies and lonely socks before imparting its message. As far as he’s concerned, whatever conversation Bucky thinks they need to have can just live under there too, to be vacuumed at a date still to be determined.

Flopping onto his back with a groan he lets his legs dangle over the edge of the bed. That’s not a mature way to go, he’s pretty sure. He should be mature about this relationship and suck it up. He’s a gainfully employed young man, educated, can probably balance his checkbook if he put his mind to it. There’s nothing to be afraid of about a conversation.

If it leads to heartbreak and tears along with pints of both ice cream and beer on his bed with his best friend – well, so be it. He sits up feeling a little better for his decision, although there is still some low-level anxiety simmering in his stomach, and grabs his phone. Pulling up Bucky’s contact page, his finger hovers over the call button.

He chickens out at the last second and navigates over to his text messages to press the latest one from Steve and type out a reply.

_< Hey Steve! Bucky said something about lunch the 3 of us? If it’s not too late…>_

Less than a minute goes by before his phone chirps far more perkily than has any business being.

 _< Tony! How you feelin? Yep, we’ll see you in an hour at our place? ;)> _A second text comes through with their address.

That seems like normal, cheerful Steve. If he made too much of a fool of himself last night, enough to call it off, he probably wouldn’t be that accommodating. Right? Maybe. This is Steve, after all.

_< Mortified, I think. But functional. Be @ yours soon>_

He scrolls through the rest of his messages to make sure he didn’t send any drunk ones out and only finds one from Bucky, unopened. Clicking it, he finds himself grinning widely at a picture of him and Darcy laughing with their cheeks squished together. It’s great, and he takes note to print it out and find a frame for it later.

Well, Darcy would definitely tell him that if this is going to be the other kind of walk of shame, that of the broken hearted and lonely, he can at least look like a million bucks. ‘ _Make ‘em regret it, babe_ ’ he can hear phantom Darcy drawling in his head.

It’s fantastic advice.

An hour later, he’s showered and gelled but not shaved, opting to go for the sexy scruff he can’t wear to work and rocking a tight pair of jeans picked out by Jan. Black boots to match his black blazer, dark aviators, and a to-go cup of coffee and he’s ready to take on the world. He jogs up the stairs to Bucky and Steve’s floor and knocks on the door, still grinning like he just saw that picture.

Bucky opens the door, in sweatpants and a t-shirt, feet bare and his hair wet like he just got out of the shower. He looks stunned for a moment as he takes Tony in, a long gaze from head to toe, and Tony takes a moment to thank phantom Darcy for her advice.

After another second, Tony steps into Bucky’s space. “Hey handsome, gonna let me in?”

“What? Yeah, of course, sorry,” Bucky shakes his head and moves aside so that Tony can enter, and he drags his fingers across Bucky’s pecs as he passes, enjoying the slight shudder it invokes. Maybe this isn’t going to go as poorly as he had expected after all.

“Thanks for taking me home last night, hope I wasn’t too much trouble,” Tony says, playing it cool just in case and shrugging out of his jacket.

“No trouble at all,” Bucky replies, taking his jacket and hanging it on an empty hook against the wall before grabbing Tony around the shoulder and pulling him in for a wet, intense kiss. Shocked, it takes Tony a moment to catch up but then he’s responding eagerly, hands wrapping around Bucky’s muscular waist.

“Hey!” Steve’s indignant yell breaks them apart, but it’s playful and he grabs Tony away from Bucky. “Hands off my boyfriend.” And Tony doesn’t know who he’s actually talking to but he’s happy enough to be kissed again by Steve, equally fervent and hot.

When Steve’s done staking his claim, he smiles blindingly at Tony, and his own has to be stupidly dazed. “That’s one heck of a hangover cure, guys,” he says and Steve laughs out loud.

“No offense, doll, but you look _a lot_ better this morning than you did last night,” Bucky says as they usher him into their apartment.

Tony smiles at that, feeling a massive rush of relief and happiness that the day is going much better than he expected. Judging by the way he’s just been kissed, a breakup is the furthest thing from Steve and Bucky’s minds.

He doesn’t fight as Steve drags him over to a small, well-used table in their kitchen and plies him with a fresh cup of coffee. Tony thinks his heart might just explode when Steve sits next to him and grabs Tony’s free hand and entwines their fingers together; it’s these sweet small gestures he’s not used to but definitely enjoys.  

“Bucky told me all about you and your karaoke skills! I can’t wait to hear you and meet Darcy, she sounds like fun,” Steve says

Tony can’t help but laugh; Darcy would run circles around Steve and the poor guy might never recover from his blush if they ever met. “She’s like the daughter I never wanted! Like in Greek mythology, she popped out fully grown, dripping with sarcasm and disdain.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Bucky chimes in cheerfully from the stove where he’s cooking something that smells amazing and bacon-like, and Tony knows that he isn’t harboring any ill-will toward his friend for her drunken brashness.

“Well you already met most of my friends at Jan’s. Darcy fits right in with our collective insanity.”

“Admitting that you have a problem is the first step to recovery,” Bucky intones solemnly, shaking his head. Tony just sticks his tongue out at him and turns purposefully to Steve.

“I think they’re a fun bunch. A lot different than our friends.”

Tony jumps on that with enthusiasm. “Speaking of, when do I get to meet them?”

Steve’s eyes widen in excitement. “You really want to?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I?” Unless they’re friends aren’t aware of their poly tendencies…that would be super awkward.

“We’ll have to plan a pub night soon, then. I know Sam wants to meet you,” Steve continues and Tony feels another deeply hidden tension abate; so he’s not the dirty secret, that’s good to know.

“How about we table that discussion for now and talk about what we originally wanted to, huh babe?” Bucky interrupts, setting down a large platter of scrambled eggs and bacon in the center of the table, and pressing a kiss to Steve’s temple.

“Right. Let’s dish up the food first, though. I’m starving. Plates?” Steve bats his eyelashes at Bucky, who huffs and retreats back into the kitchen main for utensils.

Despite his exceedingly warm welcome, Tony can feel his heartbeat accelerating and his palms start to sweat with nerves. There are a lot of topics Tony would prefer his drunk self not talk about: his college days, his insecurities, his parents, yada yada yada. There’s quite a list.

Bucky sits and bites off about half a strip a bacon in one go and starts talking before he’s done chewing. “I’m guessing by your face that you don’t remember, but you were talking quite a bit last night about sex.”

Tony splutters around the mouthful of coffee he just sipped and coughs out, “I did _what_?” Then he remembers his conversation with Darcy and can’t berate Drunk Tony too much for saying what Sober Tony would probably take months to work up the courage to.

“It is probably something we should talk about, and sooner rather than later, actually,” Steve adds, squeezing Tony’s hand reassuringly. It helps. He looks at the two of them and sees no judgment or disgust and thinks, _yes_ , _we can totally be mature adults and talk this out_.  No problem.

“Right,” he says when he’s got his breath back. “I’m not ready for both of you. I’ve never even considered a threesome before let alone something with people that…um… matter.” That was more he meant to say and stares down into his mug, trying not to flush with embarrassment.

Now it’s Bucky’s hand on his knee that brings him comfort. “That’s fine, Tony. We’ll take it at your pace. We just wanted to be frank about it now.”

“Yeah, so whenever you feel the moment is right, with either of us, roll with it. But maybe don’t leave the third party hanging too long,” Steve teases, his eyes sparkling with a gentle mirth and Tony just soaks it up.

“Ok,” he takes a deep breath and pulls himself back into the confident place he was when he knocked on their door. “So it’s as easy as that?”

“Easy as that,” Bucky winks. “You say the word and we’re there and it doesn’t matter who gets to be with you first. Just know that we both want to. Really.”

Tony can’t stop the blush now. Easy as that, who would have thought?

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Peds = pediatrics  
> Honorable mentions:  
> Elton John's 'Don't Go Breaking My Heart'  
> The Champs 'The Tequila Song'


End file.
